Backfire
by George Stark II
Summary: House/Wilson pre-slash, eventual slash. Spoilers for 7.03 "Unwritten." Wilson and Cuddy are shocked to discover that House is actually making a friend. They are even more shocked about who it is.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** House/Wilson pre-slash, eventual slash. Spoilers for 7.03 "Unwritten." Wilson and Cuddy are shocked to discover that House is actually making a friend. They are even more shocked about who it is.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own House. [insert clever comment about why I don't own House here]

**A/N—please read:** This story is rated M. There are not going to be any detailed sex scenes (sorry), but there is going to be one scene in chapter three that some readers may find disturbing, indecent, and possibly even unnatural. Again, sorry, but it was something new and different and we get to House/Wilson in the end, we always do. So please see this through.

There are going to be four chapters, and I will post one each day.

Backfire

House strode through the hospital down to his girlfriend's office, pushing the doors open in front of him and letting them slam shut behind him to make his entrance grander. Cuddy, unflinching, glanced up from her phone call before returning her eyes to her computer and her attention to the caller.

"It will have to wait until the twenty-first," the Dean of Medicine said into the phone, "I'm completely booked until then, unless you want to do it after five."

House cleared his throat loudly.

Nodding to her caller, Cuddy ignored him. "All right, 6pm on the eighteenth, then. Goodbye." She hung up her phone and looked up at House. "What?"

"Will you go out with me...?" House asked.

She chuckled and scoffed. "Aren't we a little past that?"

"...and Wilson and Sam?" he finished his sentence. "Last time you got pissy at me for agreeing without your permission, so this time I wanted to make doubly sure it was okay."

"House," she responded, rolling her eyes, "I didn't get _pissy_ because you agreed without my _permission_, I just wanted you to ask me first."

"And now I'm asking you," House said. He picked the plush penguin that he'd stolen from a patient room off her desk and held it out to her. "Pweeze, go out wiff me? And Wilson and Sam?"

Taking the penguin, Cuddy chuckled. "All right," she agreed. "Where and when?"

"Dinner Friday night. Wilson's picking the restaurant."

"Sounds good. You know, I'm surprised they asked again," Cuddy commented as House was about to leave the office. "I wasn't really sure about how much fun they had last time."

"No, it was my idea," House clarified. "_I _had fun last time."

She looked up in surprise. "_You _suggested us going out with Sam and Wilson? As in, voluntarily spending time with Sam? I thought you hated her."

"Of course I hated her. Past tense," House explained. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "I have seen the light."

"House, you called her an 'evil blonde' who would 'gorge on Wilson's tender flesh and toss out his bones.'"

"I did," House agreed with a nod. "I also called her a harpy, and to her face I even called her a cold-hearted bitch and my enemy. But that was a long time ago."

"Back when you were jealous of her for hogging Wilson's attention," Cuddy clarified, smiling. "But now that you've got a significant other in your life, it's okay for him to have one too."

House shrugged. "Something like that."

Still smiling, Cuddy shook her head and went back to her work. House left the office.

She'd only been partially right. Yes, House had been jealous of Sam back before he had been dating Cuddy, but not just because she got to spend more time with Wilson than he did. She was getting things from Wilson that House wanted and didn't get, and not just his attention.

House had been secretly in love with his best friend for years. It had taken him a long time to admit the truth to himself, but once having Vicodin-induced hallucinations severe enough to land him in a mental institution made him take another look at his life, he realised what his priorities were and knew that he'd been lying to himself for years. Not only was he completely, head-over-heels in love with James Wilson, he had been for ages and would be forever.

After he'd been released from Mayfield, House spent the next few months living with Wilson, analysing his every move and trying to gauge whether his oncologist best friend felt the same way. But Wilson, being as bad about mixed signals as women could be, did not give him a clear picture. He bought a condo for the two of them to live in and then tried to go out with their downstairs neighbour. He asked House to marry him and then suggested House go speed-dating with him. And, most confusing of all, he bought House an organ worth thousands of dollars, shared a loving glance with him across the room, and then contacted his ex-wife on Facebook and started a relationship with her again.

And at the time, House had blamed her: Sam. From the moment House had moved in with Wilson, the two doctors had been growing closer and closer. While not convinced that the younger man was in love with him, House held out hope and tried to believe that if their life together continued, they would eventually cross the line from best friends to lovers. Wilson buying the organ had been so close, and House had had half a mind to go into Wilson's bedroom that very night and kiss him, see if he felt the same. Not wanting to risk their friendship, though, he'd backed out at the last minute. And before he knew it he'd come home from New York early just to hear the sounds of Wilson and some girl fucking in the next room. It had about broken his heart. But he'd hidden his feelings, like he always did, and pretended he was all right with the relationship while really trying to break the two up. When that plan had failed, he'd grudgingly accepted that Sam was there to stay, at least for awhile, and when they did break up it wouldn't be because of House. He'd turned to liquor to help himself cope, pining for Wilson and cursing Sam's guts for taking the man he loved away from him.

But this had changed once Cuddy had shown up at House's apartment saying she'd left her fiancé because she was in love with House. Shocked but thrilled, House had abandoned his plan to relapse on Vicodin, kissed Cuddy, let her clean up his cut, carried her to his bed and made love to her. They had been together ever since. Which was now about three weeks.

And to House's surprise and delight, he was finding that he was happy with Cuddy. Though they weren't nearly as strong as the feelings he had for Wilson, House had harboured romantic feelings for his boss dating back to the time in medical school when they'd had a one-night-stand. Even then, he'd intended to call her afterward and make it a lot more than a one-night-stand, but then he'd been expelled from the university and figured there wasn't any point since he wouldn't be going to school there any more. He'd never expected to meet her, years later, just to have her offer him a job. At the time he'd still been in a committed relationship with Stacy, so his feelings for her hadn't re-emerged much until after his infarction and their breakup, but they, like those for Wilson, had been lingering for years.

Now, since House was with Cuddy, loving her while not quite in love with her, and happy, he'd come to realise he hadn't quite been justified in his vilification of Sam. As much as he wanted Wilson to love him, to be in love with him, the man either simply wasn't or simply wasn't ready to admit his feelings. Neither of which was Sam's fault. And yes, she had really hurt her then-husband with the divorce nineteen years ago, but she seemed to have changed since then. House generally believed people didn't change, but he knew he himself had changed, and besides, when Wilson and Sam _had_ broken up temporarily (and Wilson had turned down House's blatant offer of a dinner date), she had come back, apologised, and showed she had learned from her mistake. Wilson had learned from his mistakes as well, and he seemed to be happy with Sam.

That was quite an important factor in House's newfound acceptance of the woman—she made Wilson happy. And now that House wasn't wallowing in his own misery anymore, he could be happy for them. He didn't have to hate Sam any more, he could even like her. She _was_ a Jack Cannon fan.

.

The four of them sat around a small square table in the back of the restaurant. House studied the dessert menu while Sam, giggling, ordered another margarita.

"Honey," Wilson said, placing a gentle hand on her arm and speaking in a low voice, though House and Cuddy could still clearly hear him, "don't you think you've had enough?"

"Come on, Wilson," House said over the dessert menu. "You and I get way drunker than she is sometimes. It's Friday night—no work tomorrow. Let the girl party."

Sam giggled again. "Thank you, House. Besides, this is gonna be my last one anyway."

"No, don't do it," House objected, smirking. "You're starting to let Wilson be a good influence on you. For shame. I learned years ago to ignore the little Wilson-voice in my head telling me when to stop. I find I have more fun that way."

"That 'little voice' is your conscience," Wilson said with a frown.

"That explains a lot," House said, nodding, and his comment made Sam laugh.

"Oh!" the blonde said suddenly, turning to House and setting her drink on the table. "I finished it, and there's no way it ends like that. Seriously, House, what have you done with the real one?"

"That was the real one!" House replied indignantly, though the Wilson-voice in his head reminded him that giving someone a fake manuscript just to mess with them was exactly the type of thing he would do. "She's just sending us all a big 'fuck you,' and after we cured her and everything."

"I can't believe it!" Sam groused. "All right, so she was using the writing as a form of therapy, but without her fans, she never would have been able to make a living off of it and would have starved to death years ago."

"House really did try to change her mind," Cuddy piped up as though trying to force herself into the conversation. "He was as indignant as all get out and she just sat there and refused. It was adorable, really," she added fondly. "He was like a little kid finding out Santa wasn't real."

"Santa's not real?" House turned to her in mock-shock/horror, and Sam giggled again while Cuddy and Wilson shared an eye-roll.

"So yeah," House continued, turning to Wilson's girlfriend again, "her fucked-up excuse was that this way the readers get to pick their own ending."

"Ha!" Sam said triumphantly. "So I win—she does choose Deacon."

"No, it _never_ said that," House argued. "Since it doesn't say she chooses anyone then she doesn't choose anyone. She lives out the rest of her life as a celibate spinster with forty cats."

Sam snorted. "She's got these two hot guys to choose from and you think she picks neither?"

"'Hot guys'?" House repeated. "They're sixteen. Wilson, you're dating a paedophile."

"I meant hot in _her_ opinion," Sam clarified quickly, though she was blushing. "Besides, according to James _you're_ the one who almost dated a seventeen-year-old."

"You told her about that?" House asked Wilson, but he turned back to Sam before his friend could even answer him. "Well it's a lie, I didn't almost date a seventeen-year-old. I almost _waited_ for a seventeen-year-old to turn eighteen, but before that could happen I cured her of the disease making her lust after me in the first place."

"Ooh, maybe someone should have a look at you, Lisa," Sam commented.

Both Wilson and Cuddy laughed.

"Hey, that was uncalled for," House said, but he was smirking.

Sam shook her head. "Seriously, House, my argument is way more convincing than yours. Deacon is the one who was always there for her, Deacon is the one she had her first kiss with–"

"–But no one in their right mind would _choose_ Deacon when they could have both."

"Right, cause they'd consent to a three-way."

"Hey, you never know," House said, shrugging.

..

The white candle in the table's centre had burned lower and would soon go out.

"Helen's ex-husband can't be the father—Susan would never betray her sister like that," Sam argued.

"Susan was a slut," House pointed out. "She might even have been a sex addict, and Helen's ex-husband was obviously an asshole. He even abused her."

"Oh my god!" Sam said, lighting up. "What if it wasn't Susan's fault—what if he raped her?"

"And..."

"...Jack was conceived during the rape," they said in unison.

House grinned triumphantly. "See? Told you the ex was the father."

"House," Cuddy interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. "We've really got to get going. I told the babysitter ten; it's almost ten-thirty."

"But we're talking," House argued, gesturing at himself and Sam.

"It's all right," Sam said, smiling. "We can continue this on the discussion boards, I'm Deaconlover67."

"DiagnosticGenius91," House replied, getting up from the table.

"But we'll have to start our own forum," Sam pointed out. "No one's gonna believe that we got the actual manuscript from a typewriter ribbon—not until the book comes out anyway." She sighed. "There sure are gonna be a ton of disappointed fans."

"Or we could sell the manuscript to a magazine for a ton of money," House suggested as the foursome headed for the restaurant's exit.

Sam shook her head. "They'll never believe us. I don't even know if the publishers will publish the tenth book with an ending like that–"

"–and miss an opportunity to sell millions of copies? Of course they'll publish it, they don't care. Maybe it won't sell as well as the last nine once word of the ending gets out, but that's sure as hell more than they'd sell if they–"

"–House," Cuddy interrupted.

He looked at her. "What?"

"We're at the car," she pointed out.

"Oh," House said, shrugging.

"All right," Sam said cheerfully. "Well, we'll do this again next week." She stepped over to Cuddy and gave her a goodbye hug, which the older woman hesitantly returned. "Bye, Lisa."

Then, to House's immense surprise, she did the same to him. "Bye, House," she said, even going so far as to give him a quick peck on the cheek before backing up and slipping her arm through Wilson's. She waved goodbye at them while House and Wilson shared a half-amused, half-bemused look and the younger couple made their way to Wilson's car.

House shook his head and got into his car. Cuddy got in beside him and chuckled. "I don't believe it," she said.

"What?" House asked innocently, starting the car and pulling out of the parking spot. "So she had a couple of drinks. So what?"

"House, you've made a friend," she said. "You found a person that you have something in common with, you had...well not an _adult _conversation, but _a_ conversation with them, and they showed affection for you."

"Sam's not my friend," House objected. "Wilson is my friend. I was being nice to her for his sake."

"No, you weren't," Cuddy argued, grinning. "House, you actually like her."

"I don't_ like _her," House said, rolling his eyes. "I just don't hate her anymore. I acknowledge that I misjudged her and now I'm being civil with her."

"'Civil'? House, you were a bit more than 'civil.' 'Civil' would be if you just put up with her," Cuddy pointed out. "You spent the last half hour socialising more with her than Wilson and I put together, chattering like teenage girls. House, just admit it. You like her."

"Fine," House agreed, rolling his eyes again. "All right, I like her. So what? She's cool—she likes Jack Cannon and go-carts, and she's unopposed to using three million dollar pieces of hospital equipment to read a novel. What's not to like?"

_Other than the fact that she's sleeping with Wilson_, House's brain responded automatically, but he ignored it. He'd forgiven her for that. Of course she was sleeping with Wilson—who _wouldn't_ sleep with Wilson, given the opportunity? Besides, he was sleeping with Cuddy now anyway, and he was content with that.


	2. Chapter 2

House entered his office on Monday to find Wilson sitting in one of the chairs, smirking at him.

"Cool," House said. "Role-reversal. First you steal my lunch, now you stalk my office. Does this mean I'm gonna start wearing ridiculous ties?"

Wilson smiled. "No, I just...wanted to thank you for Friday night."

House pretended to look confused for a second. "Wait...I thought _Cuddy_ was the one I took home and fucked senseless on Friday. Or was I so drunk I didn't notice we were swinging?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. "No, I mean for getting along so well with Sam. I know in the beginning you weren't too crazy about her, but I appreciate you giving her a chance. It means a lot to me that you're actually willing to get to know and like her as a person."

"All right, I get it, Wilson," House said, also rolling his eyes. "So I actually don't hate one of your girlfriends, stop the presses. Maybe this would have happened sooner if you'd actually made better dating choices sooner."

"House, she was my _first _serious dating choice," Wilson reminded him.

"Yeah, well don't screw it up this time," House suggested. "We might not get so lucky with the next one."

Wilson's smile faded slightly and he looked away.

House chose to ignore the message Wilson's body language gave off and instead cleared his throat. "So, should we make plans for the weekend?"

"We can't go out this weekend," Wilson said, turning to him again. "Sam and I are going down to visit her parents."

"Well that's not gonna be awkward at all. So, do you still get to call them Mom and Dad, or are we reverting back to Mr. and Mrs. Carr?"

"I'll just call them by their first names," Wilson muttered. "That's what I called them when we were dating. How about next Monday you two can come over to the condo and I'll cook dinner?"

"Can't—Lisa's working late on Monday. Besides, there's a monster truck show I wanna see."

Wilson shrugged. "So why don't you just come over then? Sam likes monster trucks."

Without warning, House marched over to Wilson and placed a hand on his forehead as though feeling his temperature. Wilson gave him a confused look. "Uh...House?"

"No fever," House muttered, taking his hand away. "Have you had any stomach or chest pain recently?"

"What? No. House, what are you talking about?" he asked, giving his friend a bewildered look.

"I just think there might be something wrong with you," House explained. "Not only did you actually just invite me to spend time with you and Sam, which in itself is cause for concern, you're actually dating someone cool."

Wilson smirked. "Glad you approve. I'll tell her you're coming over next week."

.

House lay in bed beside Cuddy, who was close to sleep with her head nestled against his shoulder.

"You staying the night?" she murmured sleepily.

"Does it mean I can be late to work tomorrow?" he asked.

Cuddy scoffed. "You're always late to work."

"Yes, but very rarely am I late to work with your permission," House pointed out, smirking.

She nuzzled closer to him and closed her eyes. "Whatever. Just no grabbing my ass while we wait for the elevators."

"No promises," he muttered, rubbing her arm gently. For a moment they simply rested in bed like that, but then House's phone made a buzzing noise from the nightstand.

Cuddy groaned.

"It's okay, it's mine," House said, reaching over to grab it.

"You don't even have a patient right now," she muttered.

"It's a text," he said, glancing at it. He opened the phone, sat up a little bit, and started typing back.

"A text at eleven at night?" Cuddy asked, flopping her head down into her pillow. "Isn't Wilson in bed with Sam right now? Doesn't he have better things to do than text you?"

"Hang on, I'll ask," he said, fingers typing. A second later the phone buzzed again. "No," House said, reading it, "apparently Wilson always likes to shower after sex."

Cuddy sat up a bit, propping herself up on her elbows. "Wait, he's texting you from the shower?" she asked, confused.

House glanced at her. "Whoever said I was texting Wilson?"

"Who else would you be–? Wait, you're texting _Sam_?"

"What?" he asked. "She...she's my best friend's girlfriend. That makes her almost my friend."

Cuddy shook her head. "Haven't the two of you exhausted all your Jack Cannon talk?"

"Yeah, we got bored with that a few days ago," House answered with a shrug, returning his attention to his phone. "Now we're just swapping dirt on Wilson. You would not believe some of the stuff she's got on him. Did you know that he shoplifted condoms until he was twenty-one because he was too embarrassed to buy them?"

"What?" she said, sitting up properly now. "Wilson wouldn't do that."

"Yeah, apparently one time he bought the wrong brand and she wanted to return them, but he didn't have the receipt. So she dragged him into the drugstore, grabbed a box off the shelf, went to the cashier with Wilson in tow and said, 'Hello. This is my boyfriend. We need to buy these condoms because we're going to have sex.' She says his face was like a tomato and he couldn't even get it up that night."

"You are _not _having that conversation with Sam," Cuddy said, grabbing the phone from House's hands and looking at it.

The phone's display showed a text from Wilson's Girlfriend, 'He was redder than a tomato and he couldn't even get it up that night, we had to just go to sleep.'

Cuddy shook her head and shoved the phone back into House's hands. "Whatever. _I'm_ going to sleep."

"Goodnight," House said cheerfully, texting Sam back. Yes, the thought of her and Wilson together was not something House really cared to imagine, but most of the stuff she was giving him was really entertaining and could end up being highly useful for blackmail purposes later on.

.

Wilson answered the door and House entered. "I brought booze," he announced, holding up a case of beer.

"I asked you to bring wine, but I guess this works too," Wilson said with a sigh.

"Hey, House," Sam said cheerfully, joining them at the door. "Sweet, Guinness. Thanks." She took the case and brought it over to the fridge.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," House said, smirking at Wilson. He pulled a small box of condoms out of his pocket and handed them to his friend. "Hello. This is my boyfriend. We need to buy these condoms because we are going to have sex."

Wilson rounded on Sam, who was trying not to laugh. "You told him about that?"

"Wilson, relax, it's a joke," House said, re-pocketing the condoms and stepping into the condo. "Besides, of the stuff she's told me, there wasn't anything worse than that."

"Yeah, James, don't worry," she smirked. "Your deepest and darkest secrets are safe with me. Be not afraid."

So then Wilson turned to glare at House, who laughed. "I can't believe I knew about that one and you didn't," he commented to her.

"What I'm interested to know is how you found out about it," Sam teased. "Do you get off on it, too?"

"Hey, that was supposed to be between you and me," he joked, making his way into the kitchen. He hadn't, of course, admitted to Sam or anyone else that he actually had spent time jerking off to the porn video and imagining it was Wilson in the sex scenes as well as the closeups.

"I should never have introduced you two," Wilson muttered, shaking his head and checking on dinner.

"Babe, you didn't," Sam reminded him. "I had to walk in on him naked in the kitchen, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Wilson sighed. "All right, well dinner's just about ready, why don't we set the table?"

..

"Go! Come on, move it, you idiot!" House shouted at the television screen.

"Come on, crush it, it's just a little sedan!" Sam added.

Both doctors were leaning forward in their seats, eyes glued to the television. Wilson was watching too, of course, on the end of the couch next to Sam, but he was not screaming at the drivers and he was more relaxed in his seat.

On the screen, one of the trucks was preparing to jump over a long line of cars.

"Think he's gonna make it?" House muttered.

Without looking at him, Sam shook her head. "There's no way. It's gonna be a crash and burn, literally."

The driver revved the trucks engine and Sam and House tensed.

Wilson fidgeted in his seat. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he muttered. Receiving no response, he got up and left the room just as the truck on TV took off and headed for its jump.

House and Sam stared as it flew down the dirt, up the jump and into the air.

"Wait..." Sam muttered as it neared the end of the line of cars, "maybe..."

"No," House contradicted, shaking his head, and sure enough, the monster truck crashed into the two cars at the end of the line, rolling over and sending the gigantic tyres flying, along with dirt and bits of metal.

"Whoa!" Sam shouted in glee while House said "Awesome!" They turned to each other, grinning, and Sam high-fived House.

"Hey, where's Wilson?" House asked, noticing his best friend was gone.

Sam turned to the empty seat next to her and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he got bored; I don't think he likes monster trucks very much."

"Of course he likes monster trucks," House disagreed, shaking his head. "He goes to monster truck rallies with me all the time. Or he used to, anyway."

"Right, and that couldn't be because he just wanted to spend time with you," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "He never mentioned monster trucks once while we were together; it was my second husband that got me into in them. And the first time he asked me to go to Monster Jam with him, my enthusiasm was definitely faked." She shrugged. "At least until we got there and it ended up being way cooler than I thought. Now shut up—they're replaying it in super-slow motion," she added, turning back to the television screen.

House also returned his attention to the trucks.

"You missed the coolest crash, Wilson," he said when the host returned to sit back down. "Want me to rewind it?"

Wilson shook his head. "That's okay," he said. "I'm sure I'll get the next one."

House shared a brief glance with Sam, who raised her eyebrows._ See, what'd I tell you?_ Then he looked over at Wilson, who was watching the TV with forced interest. And for a second he wanted, like he often (well, always, really) did when the two were together, especially alone together, to kiss his friend. This ardent desire lasted a bit more than a second before House remembered that he was involved and forced the thought away. He was in a committed relationship and Wilson was, too. For a second the bitter feelings of hatred he'd felt for Sam a couple months ago flared up again before he repressed them, too. It wasn't fair to hate her—she'd done nothing wrong. Well, not recently. She was a decent person and House liked her. She was without a doubt his favourite of Wilson's girlfriends, and Wilson was happy with her. And House was happy, too, he reminded himself as he settled back into the sofa to watch gigantic trucks crush things.


	3. Chapter 3

After his evening with Wilson and Sam, House decided to go spend the night with Cuddy. She was already in bed when he got to her house, but she wasn't asleep yet and she rolled over to face him when he crawled into bed beside her.

"Hey," she said, leaning over and kissing him. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fun," he responded, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "How was your night?"

"Pretty quiet," she said with a shrug. "Rachel was good. I missed you," she added, smiling.

He smiled back and kissed her. And kissed her. And she kissed back. And back. And kissing progressed to sex, and sex progressed to the two lying on their backs, panting, and Cuddy snuggling against House.

"That was nice," she murmured softly, stroking his chest. He grunted an agreement. "Maybe this weekend we could go out, just the two of us, instead of double-dating," she suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," House agreed. "And the next time we double-date, whenever it is, you can pick the activity.

.

House regretted this promise two weeks later when he and Cuddy met Wilson and Sam to go to a play. Not only did Cuddy bully him into wearing a tie, the play wasn't even a comedy. The only thing that kept him from falling asleep in the comfortable theatre seats was the knowledge that he probably wouldn't get to have sex with Cuddy that night if he did. So he sat through the first act, mentally ranking the actresses (and actors) by doability, which was a challenge considering how far away they were.

During intermission, he got up for a brief walk to keep his leg from cramping up, but he soon gave up on that because there were too many people and not much room to walk around. He sat back in his chair, brooding, and waited for the rest of his party to return from the restrooms.

Sam came back first and gave him a smile, sitting down in the seat next to him. "You bored, too?" she asked.

House glanced at her. "Do you have a penis or something? I thought girls liked this kind of crap."

She chuckled. "I like musicals," she admitted, "and comedic plays. This...not so much. I think even James was getting bored. But the fact that we're here with people we like makes it more bearable."

House studied her, looking her up and down. "'We'?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I admit, House, when I first met you I didn't really like you that much, and I found myself constantly wondering what James saw in you. But now that I've gotten to know you more...well...I get it. There's more to you than what you show to people when you first meet them, you're worth taking the time to get to know, and I'm glad I did that. I understand why James likes you, and I like you too."

She smiled at him, and House stared at her for a second. That was unusual. Very few people liked House. Well, as Sam had just said, very few people took the time to get to know House. And of those that did, not all of them liked him, but some did. Wilson and Cuddy, for instance. And Chase, definitely. Cameron had liked him, Thirteen had seemed to like him, and so had Kutner before he died. But with the exception of Wilson and Cuddy, whom he'd known before his employment at Princeton-Plainsboro, all of the above had been forced into getting to know House through working for him. They hadn't voluntarily took the time to befriend him. Sam could easily have simply put up with House, interacted with him only when necessary, and hated him behind James's back, but she hadn't. She'd come to know and like him as his own person. And she was the first of Wilson's wives or girlfriends to do so. House...really did appreciate that.

"Sam..." House muttered, looking away from her and clearing his throat. "I don't usually do this, so you might want to listen up." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for misjudging you, for calling you a cold-hearted bitch, for calling you my enemy, and for threatening you. It was...uncalled for. Wilson...he's lucky to have you."

He chanced looking up at Sam, and she was smiling at him. "House, I appreciate that," she said. "Thank you for apologising. And, while it doesn't excuse your actions, I want you to know that I do understand why you said what you said." She gave a sad smile. "You wanted to protect James, and you didn't want to lose him. You felt threatened by me, but you should know that you didn't need to."

"Yeah," House muttered, shrugging. "We can...share him."

"We..._could_..." Sam agreed tentatively, giving House a smile he would swear was flirtatious if he didn't know better. And why was she suddenly so close to him? "...or..." Sam continued, but instead of finishing her sentence with words she leaned the rest of the way toward House until her face was right in front of his, and then she kissed him on the lips.

Except, unlike the peck on the cheek a month ago, she didn't pull back right away.

This wasn't a platonic friend-kiss.

She was actually pressing her lips against House's.

Interesting.

House knew he should be pulling back right about now, but shock and surprise kept him in place. This was interesting. He would be lying if he said he didn't like Sam, because he did, but it hadn't even occurred to him that there could be something romantic between them, even if they weren't both involved. And she was certainly attractive, but he hadn't ever looked at her that way before because when he'd met her she'd already been dating Wilson again. She was off-limits. And House himself was dating Cuddy, so _everyone_ other than her was off-limits. So now would be a good time to pull away from the kiss.

Just as House was deciding this, however, a loud gasp and an "Oh my god!" met his ears.

He and Sam pulled apart a couple of seconds too late to face Wilson and Cuddy, who were standing in the aisle, identical looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.

Sam gasped. "James!" she said, clapping a hand in her mouth. "James, oh my god, I didn't want you to find out like this..."

"What?" House and Wilson said in unison, both glaring at Sam, but House quickly turned his eyes to his best friend, getting up from his seat.

"Wilson, no, listen, there's nothing going on," House said quickly. He felt the world spinning around him, everything was happening so fast. What had Sam been doing? But at the same time he knew, he understood..._she'd set him up_. "Wilson, listen to me," House pleaded. "This is the first...I mean, this is the only time that's happened. We were just talking, and then she kissed me–"

"–Greg, come on," Sam said, putting on a convincing glare and rolling her eyes. "We both know this has been building for weeks. And come on, they saw us–"

"–No!" House said. His eyes shifted from his best friend to his girlfriend. "She's lying, it's not true, nothing's happened..."

"House," Wilson said, glaring at him. "You were just kissing—don't tell us nothing's happened."

"_She_ just kissed–"

"–James, we were going to tell you," Sam interrupted, her tone convincingly apologetic. "We just weren't quite ready yet–"

The lights began to dim, signalling that the second act of the play was about to start.

"We need to take this outside," Cuddy said, looking anxiously at the people hurrying to their seats around them.

"Great idea!" Wilson snapped, turning on his heel and walking quickly up the aisle toward the hall.

"Wilson–" House said, hurrying after him and Cuddy, Sam on his heels. They pushed past the other theatregoers, going against the flow of traffic, but finally made it to the now-abandoned hall.

Cuddy had stopped, waiting for House and Sam so they could get this straightened out, but Wilson had kept walking, heading straight for the exit.

"Who are you going to believe?" House demanded, looking at Cuddy but speaking loudly so Wilson could still hear him. "Me or her?"

Cuddy opened her mouth to answer, but Wilson had turned quickly and cut her off. "I don't know what to believe!" he shouted across the way, clearly not caring about making a scene, though there was no one around to witness it. "When you walk in on your best friend kissing your girlfriend, you kinda lose faith in both of them!" And then he turned resolutely back to the exit and continued walking out.

With a quick glance at Cuddy, House hesitated for about half a second. Cuddy or Wilson?

And then he quickly strode after his friend, cursing his stupid infarcted leg for preventing him from going faster. He followed Wilson into the parking lot next to the theatre.

"Wilson!" he called again, trying to hurry over to the man's car. He got there just as Wilson was starting it, and he tugged at the passenger door, but Wilson had locked it. "Wilson!" he shouted, banging on the window with his cane. "Open the door!"

"Get out of the way, House!" Wilson shouted back angrily, his voice slightly muffled though the window.

"Open the damn door, Wilson!" House repeated. "Listen to me—she was lying! She's the one who kissed me and nothing–"

But Wilson had put his car into reverse and started backing out of the parking spot. House tried to go around, get behind the car so Wilson would be forced to stop, but he wasn't fast enough and Wilson pulled away, leaving House standing alone in the middle of an empty parking spot.

Fuming, House pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Wilson's cell number. Wilson, of course, did not answer. House left an explanatory message he knew Wilson would delete from voicemail without even listening to and then headed back to the theatre.

Fine, maybe Wilson would believe stupid lying bitch Sam but Cuddy wouldn't. Cuddy _couldn't_. She would believe House, she had to. She barely even knew Sam. She would believe House.

But when he got back inside, Cuddy was gone. The only person still there was Sam, sitting on one of the fancy sofas in the lounge and looking quite pleased with herself.

"Where's Cuddy?" House demanded, glaring at her with a look of such loathing he was half-surprised she didn't fry on the spot.

"It sounded like she called for a taxi," Sam said indifferently.

House would have quite liked to hit her, but there were probably security cameras, and the last thing he needed right now was to get arrested. He wished he could find it hard to believe that someone could be so manipulative, but House had had quite a bit of experience with people like this before. It took all of his self-control, but House turned around and walked, maybe not calmly, but without turning back around and strangling Sam, out of the theatre and to his car.

.

Not only was Cuddy not home—she had apparently called ahead to tell the nanny not to let House in. And House no longer had a key to Wilson's condo, though when he drove by to check Wilson's car wasn't in the parking garage anyway.

So he grudgingly went home. He had half a mind to take Vicodin again, but not only did he assure himself that this would all get straightened out, the pills in the wall had been his last stash and Cuddy had gotten rid of them the morning after they got together. So instead, House got very very drunk and passed out on his couch, sleeping most of the next day.

.

He actually went to work early on Monday so that he could wait for Wilson in his office and force a conversation.

When Wilson arrived, however, he pretended House wasn't even there. He put down his briefcase and replaced his jacket with his lab coat without even looking at House.

"Wilson," House said, trying in vain to establish eye contact. Wilson didn't answer. Real mature. "Wilson," House repeated, snapping a finger in his face. When the younger man determinedly ignored that too, House started tapping his cane loudly against the ground. "Wilson. Wilson. Wilson. Wilson. Wilson. Wilson. Wilson. Wilson."

And eventually he caved. Glaring at House in a similar manner to how House had glared at Sam the other night, Wilson said, "Do you really think annoying the hell out of me is going to get me to listen to what you have to say?"

"It got you to acknowledge me," House pointed out. He sighed and turned serious. "Wilson, come on. I don't know, maybe Sam left you as many voicemails as I did, but she's lying. She planned the whole thing just to fuck with us. I was never interested in her that way and I never will be. I was just about to push her away when you and Cuddy walked in."

"House, stop," Wilson said, looking down instead of at him. He gave a hopeless shrug. "I don't care what you say, it doesn't matter. You were my best friend and she was my girlfriend–"

"–I _am_ your best friend–" House interrupted, but Wilson ploughed on as though he hadn't heard him.

"–She's saying one thing, you're saying another, and I don't know what to believe. I don't know who to believe."

"Believe me!" House insisted, glaring with frustration.

Wilson just gave another hopeless shrug. "You say it all the time, House. Everybody lies."

"I wouldn't lie about this–"

"–House, you always hate my girlfriends," Wilson pointed out, looking at him. "Sam was the first one you actually got along with. Bearing that in mind, her story makes sense–"

"–But it's a complete lie–"

"–And why should I believe you?" Wilson demanded.

"Because I'm your best friend!" House shouted.

"And she was my wife! She was my girlfriend!"

"She was just trying to hurt you–"

"–And so do you!" Wilson pointed out, glaring at House. "Every fucking relationship I have you find a way to end! You can never just let me be happy! Bonnie, Julie, Grace, Nora, Amber–"

"–_Wilson_," House said in a warning voice.

"I didn't mean _that_!" Wilson shouted. "I meant when she was alive, you tried to break us up! You tried to bribe her into leaving me! No matter who I'm with and what stage the relationship gets to, you _always_ try to break us up! Well congratulations, House! Sam and I are broken up! Now I get to be miserable just like you! Exactly what you wanted! I hope you're fucking happy!"

And he stormed out of the office, letting the door slam behind him.

Even if House had seen which way he went, he knew it wouldn't be wise to follow him right now. He didn't know how long it would take his friend (former friend?) to cool down, but he hoped it wouldn't be long. He loved Wilson too much, he didn't think he'd be able to stand losing him.

House went down to Cuddy's office, hoping to try and salvage that relationship. Especially if he didn't have Wilson, he sure as hell needed Cuddy.

So instead of barging in like he always did, when he saw that there were people in her office he waited patiently outside for the meeting to be finished. After they left, without making any rude or inappropriate comments to them, he stepped quietly inside Cuddy's office and walked over to her desk. He stood silently instead of interrupting her, but she looked up at him.

"What do you want, House?"

He couldn't help but notice she'd looked better. There were bags under her eyes and she looked extremely stressed out, almost frazzled.

"I want to talk," House said, ignoring her unusual appearance. "What happened at the play–"

"–Frankly, House, I don't want to hear about it," she said, a sigh in her voice. She turned back to her paperwork.

"What do you mean?" House demanded, losing patience quickly. "You told your nanny not to let me in, you've been ignoring my calls. Seriously, you really don't believe me? You really think I would cheat on you? It's like I said that night, Sam was the one–"

"–I believe you," Cuddy interrupted, looking at him again. "If you really were cheating on me, you wouldn't be doing it in a place where you'd get caught. After what Sam did to Wilson, it doesn't come as a huge shock that she'd try and make it look like the two of you were having an affair."

"Then what the hell's the problem?" House asked, completely baffled. "We should be okay, why aren't we?"

"It's not the kiss I'm upset about," Cuddy said, shaking her head. "It's the fact that you didn't care."

"'Didn't care'? Cuddy, I left you like ten voicemails–"

"–Sure, after the fact," she said. "House, I walked in on you kissing another woman and instead of _talking_ to me, trying to reassure me that it wasn't your idea, you weren't having an affair, and I was the only person you loved, instead you just took off after Wilson."

"It wasn't my fault he ran off," House argued. "How was I supposed to explain what happened to him if he was just running away?"

"You weren't," Cuddy said, looking at him. "You could explain it to him later, you were _supposed_ to stay with me, talk to me, explain the situation to me. Not only did you kiss someone while we were on a date, right after that you just ditched me and left me with Sam! House, think about it, if you walked in on me kissing Wilson, who would you want me to be reassuring that it was nothing—you or Sam?"

Honestly, if House walked in on Cuddy kissing Wilson, he wouldn't really care who she talked to. What Cuddy did wouldn't matter. He'd want _Wilson _to stay, he'd want _Wilson_ to reassure him that there was nothing going on, that he wasn't in love with Cuddy. He'd want Wilson to walk up to him, to hold him, kiss him, tell him that he was the only one he loved.

House shook his head. But that wouldn't happen because Wilson wasn't in love with him. And what House had just wished Wilson would do had been what Cuddy had expected _him_ to do.

"So just to clarify," he said, looking at her again, "because I didn't want to lose my best friend, I'm now losing my girlfriend."

Cuddy sighed. "Because you demonstrated to me that our relationship wasn't important enough for you to take five minutes and make sure I understood you weren't cheating on me, you're losing your girlfriend."

"I came back," House argued. "After Wilson left, I went back inside and I was going to talk to you–"

"–But what if he hadn't left, House?" Cuddy asked. "What if you'd caught up with him in the parking lot and convinced him to hear you out? How long would you have spent talking with him before coming back to me?"

The honest answer was as long as it took to make sure he and Wilson were okay. He'd even tried to get into the car with him; if Wilson had driven off, House would have gone with him. He would have done it willingly if it meant convincing his best friend that he and his girlfriend were not having an affair.

House wondered fleetingly if Sam had said something to Cuddy about House and Wilson. He'd sometimes wondered if the younger woman had picked up on House's feelings for her boyfriend, though she'd never said anything to him about it. But whether Cuddy knew or suspected House loved Wilson more than her or not, the fact was that he did. If he could do Saturday night over again he would have made the same decision to go after Wilson rather than staying with Cuddy. Between the two of them, Cuddy was the one he'd rather lose.

And now it appeared he had.

"Fine," House said, scoffing. "If that's the way you want it, then fine, we're through. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He turned around and left the office, trying to tell himself it didn't matter. He'd known from the start that he and Cuddy wouldn't last; he'd even warned her about it. He'd hoped that they'd at least make it to the two-month mark, but what's done was done.

But he was still going to fight tooth and nail to get Wilson to be friends with him again. That was a relationship he was not willing to give up—he didn't think he'd be able to stand not having Wilson in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

House decided to wait until the next day to confront Wilson again. His friend was rarely ever in as bad a mood as House had seen him that morning and he wanted a discussion, not just another fight.

He even decided to take his civility a step further and knock on Wilson's door before entering.

"Come in," his best friend's voice called, and House slowly entered the office.

The plastered smile on Wilson's face disappeared once he saw who it was.

"Go away, House," he said, turning back to his work. "I don't want to talk to you."

"You can listen then," House suggested. "Wilson, come on. Believe me. Stop ignoring me. Answer my phone calls and texts. I'm your best friend."

"No, you're not, House," Wilson contradicted, shaking his head and still not looking at him. "Not anymore."

"After all Sam did to you, you still believe her over me?" House asked angrily, starting to lose his temper again. "If we really were fucking behind your back do you honestly think we'd kiss where you could walk in on us?"

"I didn't say I believed her," Wilson said, his voice steely, "I said I didn't know what to believe. But it doesn't matter. I'm...done. I've had it. These...nineteen going on twenty years of friendship have been nothing but destructive for me. This was the final straw, House. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

"Wilson, no," House objected. "We had this conversation two years ago—you left after Amber's death but you came back because I'm your friend and you like being with me. Don't do this again. Wilson...fuck...just tell me...what am I supposed to say? What do you need me to do to make us okay again?"

Wilson shook his head. "There's nothing you can do, House," he said to his desk. "It's over. Our friendship is over."

House glared at Wilson, in hurt and frustration more than anger. "And nothing I say can make you change your mind?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

Again, Wilson shook his head. "No. Not since I walked in on you kissing my girlfriend, whether it was the first time or the millionth."

House also shook his head, though Wilson wasn't looking at him. "I don't believe it," he said.

Wilson didn't respond, so House continued.

"You really think I would do that? You _actually_ think I would be able to hurt you that way?"

"House, our relationship has consisted of nothing _but_ you hurting me. Every time I start to be happy, you find a way to fuck it up. You can never just leave me be."

"But I've _never _made a move on someone you were in a relationship with," House countered. "And before you bring up Nora, the two of you were never actually together, you didn't have any sort of claim on her." He shook his head again. "Fuck, Wilson. Yeah, I try to cockblock you, and yeah, I do little things to bug the hell out of you, but I never purposefully do anything to hurt you. I...I can't. I can't hurt you on purpose because I'm in love with you." He chanced a glance over at Wilson. The younger man had not looked at House once from the moment he entered the room and now was no exception. He was looking at the papers on his desk, not saying anything.

House went on, "That's why I always try and fuck with your relationships. I'm jealous. I know that doesn't make it okay, but I_ also_ always back off after a while. And maybe I should have told you sooner. I don't know. The only reason I didn't was because I didn't think you felt the same way and I didn't want you to end our friendship over it. But since you're ending our friendship anyway, well, I guess it doesn't make a difference then." He sighed. "Maybe you're not believing this anymore than you believed what I told you about what happened with Sam, but it's the truth." He stood up and spent a second watching Wilson, who hadn't moved. "Now you know."

And he left.

.

Alcohol was House's friend. Wilson wasn't speaking to him and Cuddy wasn't speaking to him, but the guy who owned the liquor store would tell him his total, and House would hand him his gold card, and then he would be kept warm for the night.

House didn't know if he was angry or grateful that Cuddy had gotten rid of the last of his Vicodin. Now that he had nothing left, he probably would have relapsed again if it had been there, but he knew that wasn't really what he wanted.

He thought about calling Dr. Nolan again, but the man hadn't been much help to him last time, so why would now be any different? And either way, his pride wouldn't let him. Yes, he was drinking, but he wasn't back on drugs, so what did he need therapy for? He didn't need it.

Sometimes House thought about illegally obtaining painkillers, but these thoughts usually came in the middle of the night when he was barely sober enough to stand up, let alone go looking for drugs. And always by the next morning, when the possibility was much more realistic, he knew it was a bad idea. If someone handed him a bottle of Vicodin, he would probably take it, but he wouldn't go looking for it. During the day he tried to focus on work, on patients and diseases and medicine and sometimes soap operas. It helped him to forget that he was basically alone in the world. And then at night, when the distractions disappeared, he had his booze.

One week Chase asked House to join him for bowling, but, knowing it was likely just out of pity, House refused.

Sometimes when he saw Cuddy he tried to be friendly, to flirt, to get something out of her, but she treated him just like any other employee, not commenting on anything that wasn't strictly medically necessary.

One time he went to Wilson's office for a completely legitimate consult, but Wilson wouldn't even look at the scan. He directed one of the other oncologists in the department to do the consult for him.

For three weeks House lived like this, and each day he was getting a little more desperate, each morning the idea of going back on drugs seemed like a less horrible solution. But House tried to tell himself it wouldn't last. He'd suffered through periods of misery before, with and without drugs, and they always passed. He always found something or someone to help, make him go from miserable to less miserable, and for awhile he had even made it all the way up to happy, so he knew it was a possibility. He just didn't know how he was going to get there.

.

It was almost lunchtime. This didn't matter, because Wilson never ate in the cafeteria anymore. He'd also begun locking his balcony door, and his office door whenever he left. House had given up on trying to run into him.

House tried to think about his patient as he went to the men's room to use the urinal. She appeared to have genital herpes, but she insisted her boyfriend always used a condom, and besides that the tests that had been run three times were a consistent negative.

But as House went to wash his hands he became distracted from thoughts of his patient because Wilson had just emerged from a cubicle and was also heading for the sinks.

For a second both men paused and looked at each other.

Well, at least Wilson was looking at him. That was the first time in over three weeks it had happened.

Then Wilson dropped his gaze and continued toward the sinks to wash his hands. House took a longer time than he normally would and watched Wilson out of his peripheral vision. He wondered if the man he still thought of as his best friend was as miserable as he was. He didn't look it. He wasn't smiling, but he looked...great. Hair perfectly in place, shirt tucked in, tie...ridiculous as always. House's face almost flickered into a fond smile, but it didn't. How pathetic was he?—three weeks of avoidance and he was still hopelessly in love with his best friend, as much as he ever was. House turned into the sink and stared at his now-clean hands. Wouldn't it ever go away?

House gave up on trying to delay any longer and reached for a paper towel to dry his hands. Behind him he heard Wilson's tap turn off. Well, it was time for this almost-interaction to draw to a close. House snuck another half-look at Wilson on the pretence of throwing away his paper towel, and then picked up his cane and headed for the restroom door.

He had reached out his hand to push it open when he heard his name.

"House," Wilson said.

For about a second House thought he was having an auditory hallucination, but he slowly turned on the spot to face his friend. Yes, Wilson was looking at him. Directly at him. He looked like he wanted to ask House something and he had his hands on his hips. House wondered if he knew how endearing that pose made him look.

"Was it true, what you said?"

There was probably only one thing Wilson could mean by that, but House decided to clarify anyway. Obviously Wilson didn't want to say the words out loud, so House would do it for him. "You mean about me being in love with you?"

Wilson looked away briefly. "Yes," he muttered. "That."

House nodded. "Yes," he said, looking at Wilson, who was still looking away. "I meant it."

When Wilson didn't say anything else, House turned to exit again, but just like a clinic patient with an embarrassing inquiry, as soon as House's fingers met the door he spoke again.

"And is it still true?" he asked.

House slowly turned around again. Wilson was looking at him now, shyly for some reason. House glanced away and nodded again. "I don't think it's something that's gonna change."

Wilson nodded, and House waited a beat for him to say something else. When he didn't, House turned back around. He was about to leave when he decided to ask his own doorknob question.

"Why are you asking?"

Looking at the floor, Wilson sighed. "I've been thinking," he admitted, and for a second House felt a flutter of hope in his chest. "I've realised that I really don't think you would do something like that...like sleep with someone that I'm in a relationship with. Especially not if you're..." But for some reason he still couldn't say the words. He shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you and I..." He looked up and caught House's eye. "I want us to be friends again."

House felt his heart pounding in his chest. Was this for real? Wilson wanted to reconcile with him after all that...after all they'd fought about? House wanted more than anything to hope, to hope he could have his Wilson in his life again, but he was hesitant. He took a few steps closer to Wilson, studying him carefully. "And what about the fact that I'm in love with you?" House asked, his tone serious. "That doesn't bother you?"

Looking away, Wilson shook his head. "It doesn't bother me...because I think...no...I _know_...House, I'm in love with you too." He gave a heavy sigh that expelled a rush of air, and then he looked quickly up at House and started babbling, as though he needed to explain himself. "I think it's why I started dating Sam in the first place. I first noticed things, feelings that I didn't want to acknowledge years ago when I was staying with you after my divorce, but I moved out and tried to keep them repressed, but then they came back again when I you were in Mayfield and I missed you, and then you got out and you were living with me and it started to creep back up, and then I was having my surgery for the liver and I just wanted you there, and when you came and I saw you, then I just knew that I really was in love with you, but it terrified the crap out of me and it wouldn't go away, so I ran to Sam, and I didn't really think you would sleep with her but I didn't know what was going on or what to do or what I wanted, and then just for the past few weeks I've missed you so much, and House...all I want is to be with you." He finally ran out of either air or things to say, and he looked up at House with a terrified expression on his face, as though House would tell him no, tell him he didn't want him.

In what universe did Wilson think that was even a possibility? Did he not get what House meant when he said he was in love with him?

House looked at Wilson and nodded. Truth be told, he was scared, too. They hadn't spoken in weeks and now after all this time Wilson was saying he was in love with him and wanted him...it was all House had ever wanted. And there was every possibility that it wasn't real, that House was dreaming, that Wilson would change his mind in the next thirty seconds, or the morning after they first made love, or _while_ they were first making love. There was no guarantee at all that this would work out.

But there was a chance. And this chance was all House had ever hoped for, and maybe...maybe it would work out. Maybe House would actually get to be with Wilson. Maybe he could be happy.

House didn't remember crossing the room the rest of the way, but he realised suddenly that he and Wilson were only a foot apart.

"So..." Wilson said, giving a nervous shrug. "Um, now what?"

And for the first time in days, House smiled. "I think this is the part where we make out," he suggested.

Wilson nodded nervous agreement and they simultaneously stepped closer together. House leaned his cane against the sink and Wilson hesitated.

"Here? In the bathroom?"

House shrugged. "If you'd wanted a more romantic setting for our first kiss, you should have picked a more romantic setting to confess your love. Now shut up and get over here, Wilson," he directed with a hint of a smile.

Wilson nodded again and stepped closer, allowing House to wrap a tentative arm around his waist to pull them together. House spent a second studying Wilson's face, looking into the wide, captivating eyes that had haunted his dreams even when he was with Cuddy. His fingers ghosted over Wilson's cheek, almost not touching, and the younger man closed his eyes at the barely-there contact. House leaned forward, closing his eyes as well, and his lips met Wilson's.

Wilson pressed against him, lips and body, and their mouths opened so warm tongues could explore and House pulled Wilson even closer and Wilson wrapped his arms around House in return.

All House could think about was that he could barely believe this was really happening, after he'd waited for it for so long, after he thought he'd lost his Wilson forever...

A loud throat cleared from somewhere behind them.

Wilson froze in horror and House, without relinquishing his hold, turned around. But it was only Chase.

"This isn't a peep show," House informed his fellow. "Go away."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "I just wanted to use the bathroom."

"House," Wilson said, and when House turned to him his warm brown eyes gave off an irresistible glow. That was love, all right. He'd never seen that look directed at him from Wilson with this intensity before. For a second he just continued with the fond look, but then he spoke again. "We can pick this up later," Wilson suggested, his right hand finding House's left and slipping his fingers through it.

House nodded. When Wilson looked at him that way he knew he couldn't deny his now-lover anything. Though he blushed as they passed an amused Chase, Wilson still held his hand as they walked. House did not mind.

"House," Wilson said as they left the restroom, glancing over at him. "Would you have ever told me how you felt if I hadn't said our friendship was over?"

"Probably not," House admitted, shrugging. "I thought telling you would push you away. Didn't want to take that risk." He paused for a moment and then asked, "Would you have confronted your feelings if Sam hadn't forced you into leaving?"

"Probably not," Wilson sighed. Then he smiled at House. "I think I'm going to have to send her a thank-you card tonight," he said.

"No you won't," House contradicted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You'll have better things to do."

**The End**

Review? I'll share the cyber cookies that Aquarius Seth sent me.


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